


Meeting The Family

by j_gabrielle



Series: Potter's Hand [5]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Family Feels, Jealousy, M/M, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:31:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will doesn't really know what to feel when a strange lady slips into the seat at their table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meeting The Family

They’re tracking a swine when Will meets her for the first time.

Something changes in the last few days of their trip and for the sake of keeping Hannibal safe, at least until after his birthday, Will agrees to stay with his group. To stay in hell and rot… Will hopes Hannibal know the lengths he goes for him.

Nothing felt better than the moment he feels the lift of their plane to Paris, the restorative presence of his Hannibal next to him. Will has a feeling, a premonition if you will, that things will change the moment their little escapade to Paris is over. He just doesn’t know whether it is for the better or worse.

 The Parisian late morning crowd ebbs and flows by their table, and their eyes are subtly keeping tabs on their prey when she slips into the empty chair. “What a lovely morning!” She sighs happily. Will stared, unable to stop. He looks to Hannibal only to see a bemused smile playing on the corners of his thin lips.

“ _One coffee and a croissant, please_.” She ordered, smiling confidently at the waiter who takes her order. Will notes the strange and barely unnoticeable inflection in her French; not from around here, then. “ _Also, would you mind bringing me some orange juice?_ ”

The waiter offers his affirmation and scurries away. It takes a few moments for Will to realise that his cup of coffee is frozen halfway to his lips, a comical cliché that he quickly remedies with jerky movements to place his cup back onto its’ saucer. Hannibal sits calmly next to him, and Will cannot decipher the look that is on his face.

The lady tugs on her lace gloves (expensive just like her earrings and dress), smiling at them. She is beautiful, otherworldly and something about her countenance strikes him as familiar. “Well, aren’t you going to introduce us?” She laughs, as if it were the funniest thing in the world. Her order arrives and she wastes no time in pouring in the milk and the spoonfuls of sugar. Hannibal moves from next to him and passes her the cigarette tray, which makes her eyes light up and her smile widen. “No lectures this time?” The lady teases playfully, lighting up and taking a deep drag.

“No.” Hannibal grins, “I find it depressingly useless to try and help someone who refuses any aid.”

“Good on you! Finally you learnt something, huh?”

Will keeps silent, watching Hannibal and the lady trade barbs hidden under genial sentences. He knows that he has nothing to fear in terms of Hannibal’s fidelity to him, knows that despite Hannibal and him avoiding the word that rhymes with dove, it was probably the most apt word to string their names in a sentence with.

Unable to tamp down the feeling of being the outcast (again), he interrupts, “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

The lady stops in her sentence, tilting her head as if considering Will for the very first time. “An interesting one you have here.” Her eyes narrowing and her smile darkening into the shadow of something sinister. “I might just steal him from you.”

“If you do that, I won’t be responsible for my actions.” Hannibal answers without missing a beat.

Frustration colours his tone when Will grabs Hannibal’s hand, “Hannibal, who the _hell_ is this?”

He keeps his eyes on the lady as she leans back in her chair, the veil of smoke glowing faintly gold in the sun. “Will Graham, meet Mischa. My sister.”

“Hello, brother.” She inclines her head, gentle brown waves flowing with her movements. “And to you too, Will Graham.”

“Um.” Will blushes, unable to meet her eyes. “Nice. To meet you too.”

Hannibal pulls him closer, pressing a kiss to the side of his head, reassuring him. And it works.

“I would have called you.” Hannibal says when they separate. Will is much calmer, but he notes much to his satisfaction, that Hannibal has yet to let go of his hand.

Mischa. Of course. All the pictures Hannibal keeps in a box under his bed, all the letters old and recent. There a photograph of her, a single solitary snapshot of a young girl with her older brother sitting side by side, placed on the table on Hannibal’s side. He’d asked about her once, and Hannibal had only promised that he would tell him all about it one day.

Was this the day?

Out of the corner of his eye, Will could see their prey disappear into the throng of people. Briefly, he laments the loss of a meal, but pushes his attention back to the present.

There were obvious similarities that he had not noticed before, the set of her eyes, the benign line of her lips. Will wonders about her, about what kind of person she was. Did she share her brother’s appetite for the taboo? Was she ruthless when it came to a kill?

“Don’t think too hard and keep your questions to yourself, little prince.” She stubs her cigarette in the ash tray. “Ask.”

He pauses, turning to Hannibal for permission. This was his life. Everything that had happened before meeting Hannibal, this woman would know of it. Something gentle passes through Hannibal’s eyes, and the older man smiles.

“I-I don’t know where to start.” Will admits slowly.

He does not miss the look that passes between the two Lecter siblings. “Would you like to meet someone? Someone important to both my brother and I?” Mischa asks, finishing her crossaint.

Hannibal takes his hand and squeezes. “Our dear aunt, the one who raised us. Lady Murasaki.”

 

 


End file.
